“I haven’t called him.” I take my phone from her. “I was looking at some photos.”
“What photos?”
I shrug.
“You never told me you had a photo of him!” Sienna widens her eyes at me. “Let me see! Please? Please? Please?”
I unlock my phone and reluctantly pass it to her. She grabs it with a squeal and starts going through the folders.
“Oh, I can’t wait to . . . holy f**k, Asya! Is this him?”
I glance at the screen, at the photo of Pasha I secretly took one morning while he was still sleeping. He’s on his back with his arm thrown over his face. The blanket is bunched up around his waist, leaving his tattooed broad chest fully on display.
“Yeah.” I nod.
Sienna flips to the next image. That one’s a little blurry, taken the day he gave me the phone. I was trying out the camera with
